Meet Me at the Equinox
by Gwyneth Trudeau
Summary: With the arrival of the new batch of interns, things were supposed to be easier for Darren Trudeau who's running for mayor in the DC. Yet the pair of blue eyes of Gwyneth Astor baffles and frustrates him since the first day that she steps into the office. He knows that falling for an intern is a political suicide, but everything that's with her leaves him without choice but to fall
Here I am, lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling of my room. My mind wanders in the endless circles, the circles of emptiness. It is a quiet morning in late August, I can hear the tick tock sounds from the English long-case clock down the hallway outside my room, I can smell of divine scent of the freshly brewed coffee, and I can feel the temperature of the sun from the lights pushing through the curtains.

But other than that, I can barely feel anything.

What am I doing? I can't help but ask myself. What's wrong with me? It is exactly what I want and need, an internship at a councilman office in the D.C.. So what is the problem?

I turn and bury my face in the pillows, tired at my own thoughts while realising there is something more underneath just that I wouldn't admit it.

Knock knock. A sound saves me from the self-torturing search of the answer that I'm hiding. "The breakfast is ready, Miss Gwyneth." One of my housekeepers notifies me.

It is with tremendous effort that I leave my thought behind and get up for the breakfast. I quickly change into some more proper daywear from my pajamas and walk down the stairs. As much as I love the smell of coffee, I am more of a tea person. So the only reason for why I smell coffee at 9 in the morning is that my dad is back. And I'm not wrong.

"Good morning, Gwen." My dad is already sitting at the end of the oval table, holding his usual cup of coffee with his another hand on the newspaper.

"Morning, Dad" I smile brightly. Although I do grow up in a very loving and caring family, and that being the daughter of a senator gives you a lot of privileges, having the chance to see your own dad every day isn't one of them.

I join him at the table and sit on his right. Mum holds our hands and we do the breakfast prayer together.

"My darling, so you're moving to Washington tomorrow?" Mum asks after the prayer.

Dad looks up from his sip, slightly surprised.

"Yes, Mum. And I thought I've told you that, Dad?"

"You did, just that I didn't realise it is tomorrow. What's the name of the kid you're working for again?" he raises his eyebrows.

"Councilman Darren Trudeau."

"Oh Alistair, your daughter is already a grown-up, she doesn't necessarily always have to work under you or your friends. I'm sure she will be doing great in the Trudeau office, right darling?" She pats his shoulder lightly.

"Well, I guess it shouldn't be much of a problem, I can have someone to keep an eye on him." he says jokingly.

Given how the others might think that my dad is a powerful politician who is difficult to deal with because of his political position as well as his strong speeches on the policies or laws he agrees, he is no different than any other fathers in the world, he gives me the degree of freedom that I need to grow while protects me along the course.

None of us hovers on the topic afterward, we finish our breakfast in happy chatters.

My phone buzzes just when I have my last sip of tea. It's a FaceTime call from Samantha, my best friend who I'm going to live with in D.C..

I go back upstairs to chat with her on my Mac, a familiar face appears on the big screen.

"Hi, Gwen. How's everything?"

"Hey Sam. Things are great I think." I bite my lip and shrug. "Well, at least I've got everything I need packed."

"There's something about you telling me something is wrong." she stares at me in a way that I know she is about to give me the third degree.

I look away quickly, trying to escape from her gaze but all my life I have known her for, she isn't the type of person that will just give it up. And there are actually many other qualities about her that are admirable. One of the many things, she is good at sports, and that's why she's always tan, with a model-like body. While she is also adventurous, she loves the rush and risk, she grips on every opportunity and make the best of it. Often time, I have that little wonder that why would we become best friend in the first place. Me being the opposite version of her, hate sports. I would've loved it if I didn't get injured almost every single time or embarrassed myself in front of the whole class when I did sports. For that reason, my high school life has pretty much been hell. And for that reason…

"Be honest to me," her voice brings me back to the reality. "you're not being like this because Winston is also moving to the D.C., are you?"

"Just don't really worry about me. I — I'm great, really." What else could I say when I don't even dare to admit it to myself.

"For so many years already, Gwen." She signs. I feel a spasm of sadness swamps over me and I can't elude by lying to myself. What she's said is true even I no longer have any romantic feeling for him. Winston and I knew each other since senior high when I transferred into a new school. He was the first one that I met in the school and the last one that I said goodbye to. Although we went to different colleges, he is studying public affairs in Columbia, we still manage to see each other from time to time. Are we close? Yes, we are, and for all I know he would be here for me when I need him. But that is all, there is something between us, something that reminds me that we are not meant to be.

"So, how's the apartment?" I ask, trying to change the topic.

"Well, you see it's what money can buy." she stands up and moves with her laptop to show me the interior of the apartment.

It is a fully furnished two-bedroom apartment we rent together. Sam has given me the master bedroom since she thinks that she won't be home very often. So I got the room at the east end that from the far end of the windows, I can see the Capitol already. A wave of doubt hits me all in a sudden however — the ivory dome in front of me is shiny and inviting under the morning light of Washington, but something behind it is haunting, as if it is a deadly trap casted as a beautiful illusion.

"It might look a little bit drab right now. But we will buy some fun coloured bedding stuffs together when you've arrived and the whole room will be well lit up." She probably has noticed my distant looking face.

"I'm sure that will be the case and I can't wait for tomorrow." I smile a little, to avoid Sam being suspicious of me overthinking again and further questioning me. But why, why do I have to lie if I don't have anything to hide?

I shut off the computer screen after the call. I deserve some time and rest for myself. For the whole summer not only have I been preparing for the internship, I've also been doing voluntary work for Senator McCartney, a close friend of my dad and a wise mentor of me that has watched me growing up. And now with the news that Winston is also going to the D.C., it has just drained much of my mental resource.  
Wait, am I finally admitting that all of my recent fidgety being is because of him?  
I look at myself at the mirror, my reflection frowns at me. My face, for some unknown reasons, despite the plenty of sunlight New York and New Jersey offer, is as pale as it can be, and for that I feel like I'm unable to hide anything from anyone, like the old saying, it is all shown on my face. Time for some honest talk, the another me seems to be saying.

I took a deep breath, ready for the mental conversations between myself and my mind.

 _Turn down the light, turn down the bed, turn down these voices inside my head._ Adele is singing at the back of my mind while I'm trying to put everything together.

Do I still love Winston? I question myself as a start. Granted all the current unease and uncertainty, my answer to this is a firm no. I did love him, so much that I think I'd blinded myself to the hard truth that there would never really be any possibility between us and thereby kept inflicting the torture of one-sided love on my heart. But it wasn't entirely my fault I'd like to often say as an excuse. He is everything one would imagine when it comes to the term perfection. He is athletic and was in many sports team of our school; he is also smart, not the nerdy genius type but smart enough to get accepted in many Ivies. And like many perfect popular guy, he had a girlfriend throughout high school the first three years of college although they broke up an year ago.

Sam has wondered for many times why I didn't work at the opportunity when he is finally single again. For that I don't truly have an answer. If anyone ever asked me whether I still have feelings for him and I was to be honest, then it would be a yes. I don't love him but I do still feel those tiny little tugs. However, I believe the heart works in a mystical way. When one has been waiting for too long, the heart gets tired, and somehow, it is difficult for it to palpitate the way it used to even though a certain rhythm remains.

I see a bitter expression from the twin me at the mirror and I can't help but have sympathy for my teenaged self. Four years it has been and the heart is just never the same, I guess.

"Take your time, Gwen." I talk to myself, or more like to the hurt teenish me that I picture in my own head. Opening up an old wound is agonising because it digs up all the pain that one tried to bury deep, however, it is an important step to true recovery if the wound wasn't treated in the first place. "And then when you're ready, we can begin again." I reassure myself that.

No, I promise myself that.

 _I can begin again._

§§§§§

I feel energetic when I wake up in the morning. The light penetrating into my room is gentle. Does it mean that fall is indeed on its way? And maybe it is for that reason, things look slightly different today, it is the same room that I've been waking up to yet the familiar objects seem to be added with a layer of sentiment. I don't linger on this though, because soon when I stand on my feet, I am attracted by the smell of congee. It may sound peculiar since I grow up eating American food most of the time but congee has always been my comfort food, I enjoy it whenever I am sick or simply need comfort. To many people, it is too plain for their liking. But to me, it is the exact thing that I like about it. It's subtle but it leaves one a sweet aftertaste, a strong statement wrapped in homely cover.

Breakfast is the usual event that I enjoy when I'm with my family, I don't often have it when I'm living outside however. It feels to me to be something only to enjoy with the ones that you truly love.

I finish the whole bowl in no time, it's tasty and filling. While the driver arrives sharp and comes in to the house to inform me it's about time to leave. I hug my parents goodbye and then I am off to the airport to catch my flight.

The flight from New York City to D.C. is a smooth and quick one, it only takes an hour. I arrive D.C. in early afternoon therefore. Despite Sam being in the middle of some work stuffs so she isn't available to pick me up from the airport and that I have poor sense of direction, I manage to make it to our apartment after a short ride.  
When I have the first sight of the building, I can't help but be amazed by Sam's ability in bargaining and making deals. She is no doubt the best person that I know, she always has means to make things work in her ways or the best for her. The apartment she picks this time is no exception. It is a stunning multiple-story building situates at Judiciary Square near the National Building Museum. With glass and steel covering the major part of the residence, ornamenting with sandstone as occasional touches, it sets to be a contrast to the oldish brick-built townhouses nearby.

The doorman open the door for me like I'm expected. I enter the expansive marble-plated lobby and ask for the key that Sam has left at the concierge. The gentleman behind the desk gives it to me after checking my ID and confirming me as a resident here. Neither of the two men, beside professional greetings, has had small talks with me, which I would usually do with my doorman back in New York. It's a strange new feeling — if it is not for their polite smiles, I would probably be thinking that I have entered a courtroom instead of a common residential building.

Strange as it is to me, I guess it isn't for the rest of the residents in the neighbourhood. After all, it is Washington, D.C., everyone is busy with their own matters. And for a place where a high concentration of prominent politicians, judges, government officials lives, it could actually be a virtue to not to know too much and get meddled in. Privacy and confidentiality of information are what are valued, while others are not quite necessary.

The elevators are at inner end of the lobby, where one need to pass through a pair of opaque automatic glass doors to find. Another layer of privacy added, I guess. The doors slide sleekly wide open when I step close. I press the button, the elevator is summoned immediately. I then arrive at the eleventh floor, a floor below the top floor.

11B, there are only two flats on each floor while ours is on the left. The apartment looks more spacious than Sam showed me on FaceTime yesterday. The wood flooring, off-white walls and floor to ceiling windows, they all give me a sense of welcoming and comfortability.

Right after entering the apartment and to my left, there is a built-in shoe cabinet. I can already see all those heels in every colour lining up neatly inside the cabinet. Sam is a shoeaholic, she owns more than 30 pairs of shoes with the argument that in this way she can wear a different pair of shoes every day in a month. I take off mine and put them on the side where she has left for me. The whole living room consists of the lounge area and an open kitchen which are separated by a stylish dining table. On the left side of the room, there is a hallway leading to the bedrooms, mine is at the end of it.

There is not much in my room yet, my stuffs are scheduled to arrive a few days later so all I have right now is a luggage of clothing and daily necessities I will be needing for these few days. I quickly unpack everything, which gives me a sense of place and belonging.

"Welcome to Washington." I say to myself.

I look outside, the view is unbeatable. And the iron dome afar catches my eyes again. It looks both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Familiar as it is a famous architecture; unfamiliar as it is simply mysterious. But sooner, I will get to know more as I will be interning near. The idea sends a wave of excitement and makes my heart content.

Sam comes back home about an hour later after I've everything settled down. She is one hand holding a large bag of grocery and another trying to hold the door.

"You are not just watching." she complains when trying hard to pass through.

"But since when you do cooking?" I laugh and help her with the door.

"Oh well, since you come here but you're not certain about it. So I figure I might cook you something and cheer you up a bit, you know."

"I'm not so sure if it will go as you've planned." I mock her.

"Hey, have some faith in me. I do cook." she gives me a look while she puts the bag on the kitchen island and takes out the stuffs.

"I'm just kidding. But actually, to my own surprise, I feel much better after arriving here. It's just — I don't know, there seems to be something magical about Washington."

"I'm glad you think in this way. Because, from what I've heard, the Trudeau office has a rep of having good-looking interns, I think it's the thing about their HR. And by the way, the councilman himself is super handsome too." she pops open a bottle of bubbly champagne.

"That means I'd never fit in then." I sigh.

"Gwen, you're just lying to yourself. Look at you, I'd definitely want to date you if I were a guy. You only need to bring out the confidence you have for work to relationship. Then bam! Everyone bow for queen Gwyneth."

Sam isn't wrong. For years I have my heart confined for one person without showing it all has me scarred.

But it isn't even the feeling of rejection that leaves me damaged, because I have never revealed it anyway.

Rather, it is keeping it as a secret that erodes my confidence. It is like living a double life, doubts build within, so much that even when I have quitted it, I'm still left with the confusion, the confusion and frustration about love.

"Anyways, let's make a toast." She hands me a glass. "To new life here."

"To new life here."

§§§§§

All of my personal stuffs arrive the next few days in boxes, perfect timing for me to have a final round of unpacking before the start of the internship. Although I'm of no comparison with Sam when it comes to her passion to be at the edge of fashion, I do have a wide range of clothing. And that's something one would do when one has a fashionista friend.

I look at my now organised and finally fully stuffed wardrobe, thinking hard about what to wear tomorrow for the first day of my internship. What Sam has said is ringing in my head. The Trudeau office has a rep of having good-looking staffs and interns. It puts me on panic mode. Even though I might not physically fit in, at least I can't be too outstanding by not wearing proper enough. Working on the outfit is somehow manageable, I convince myself.

After hours of searching through the wardrobe, I've made up my mind and decided to go with a one-piece creamy white dress with subdued floral lace pattern and a pair of nude heels. That way I would look appropriate without being too formal as an intern.

"Breaking news!" Sam yells. I rush to the living room to see what happens. She is sitting at the dining table, gasping at her laptop.

"What?" I ask nervously.

"You will not believe this." She nearly can't hold her excitement. "You know who's Susan Williams, right?"

"Sort of, like she's your favourite fashion designer, that's all I know." How did I forget that she basically screams at everything, typical Sam.

"She's a fashion god and she's so gorgeous. But that's the usual. Guess what, while I was Googling your boss Darren Trudeau, I found out he's married. And when I clicked inside who he's married to, I just then learnt that it's Susan. She is married to Darren Trudeau."

"Darren Trudeau as in Councilman Darren Trudeau?" I want to double check that.

"Yes. How I wish I knew it earlier and applied to your office. Look at her, she's in her early 30s but she looks like she's just a few years older than us. I'm literally dying." She goes on saying how regretful she is now.  
I stare at the picture of her on Sam's screen. She's truly beautiful, well-collected as well as sophisticated. I can see why she is married to him, they're perfect match, both of them are young, smart, and with great look. And now I can't help but wonder myself, for a person like this, what would he be like in person?


End file.
